But You're The One That I Want, Always and Forever
by MandNwriterzz
Summary: The only reason Steve always disagrees to the dates Natasha sets up is because the right one for him has to be redheaded, gorgeous, sassy and tougher than nails. And she's standing right in front of him, of course. Romanogers. Set in AoU.


**A/N: Okay, trailer for AoU inspired me to write this. Nat's on Cap's bike! *squeal* Here's a scene that should so happen in Avengers: AoU. Inspired by trailer, screenshots, X-Men and OneRepublic. Don't own anything.**

* * *

><p><em>You got something I need<em>

_In this world full of people_

_There's one killing me_

_And if we only die once_

_I wanna die with you_

_And if we only live once_

_I wanna live with you_

Natasha shouldn't have felt this low. But what could she do? Ultron was terrorizing every innocent civilian out there, slaying all of them in droves every minute the Avengers just sit and do nothing. But as Tony kept reassuring her, everything was radio silence.

For now.

The redhead rubbed her nose, masking a sniffle with her hand. Clint was still missing, though. He said he was out, guarding and watching out for any potential threats, but that still didn't stop her from worrying about her best friend. Even though Clint thought she was 'sadly' claiming she still owed him a debt, she always snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye out the French window.

A knock on her door jolted her to alertness and she immediately sat up, fingers creeping underneath her pillow skin for the bump of her loyal and trusty gun. Emerald green eyes narrowed at the door.

"Who is it?" Natasha called out.

"It's me. Can I come in?"

She recognized that voice immediately and all she could do before stopping herself- and believe me, she tried everything in her power not to seem desperate- was jog over to the door, click the lock to the side and flop back down on the bed. The door creaked open and a face poked out.

And she just couldn't help a teeny, weeny smile.

Because it was Steve's face. He was looking good for somebody who had been constantly fighting and protecting half the world's population. He shot her back a reassuring smile that made her heart rise a little from its deep, dark hole of eternal misery.

"Hey," he whispered, closing the door behind him. He was wearing a dark, long sleeved T shirt and snug fitting jeans, much like what she was wearing herself and a pair of Nike sneakers. His sandy brown hair is spiked up and ruffled in a very cute, I-just-got-out-of-bed way. It took all of her self control not to brush her fingers through it, wanting to feel its silkiness against her fingertips. There was a tiny scar along his cheekbone from one of the fights.

God, he just killed her sometimes.

"Hey yourself, Cap," Natasha replied back, her smile slightly wilting. She propped herself back up and fiddled with the silver metal zipper of her jacket. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see how you've been doing." It was so damn sweet that he was thinking of her and her heart jumped again. He was so thoughtful most of the time, although he could be the most vague and oblivious idiot on the freaking planet, like whenever a girl was interested in him and tried to flirt, he acted like he had no freaking clue what was going on. It usually made Natasha both laugh and roll her eyes at his cute stupidity.

"How do you think I'm doing?" croaked the redhead sarcastically.

Steve raked a hand through his locks with a heavy sigh. "That's the thing, Natasha. Half the time, you don't want anyone to know what's going through that pretty little head of yours." He always said that whenever she acted snarky, but it still didn't stop her from slightly blushing at the Captain calling her pretty.

"It's nothing, really, Rogers." It was a way too obvious brush off.

"You're worrying about Barton, aren't you?" Steve didn't sound the least bit offended or jealous. Not that the red haired woman really expected that. He was very aware of their close friendship and was the only one who didn't attempt to grill her about any other details concerning her and Clint's relationship, because Tony was always implying 'what the hell happened in Budapest' and why Clint's never 'tried it on' her.

Natasha paused for a moment before nodding just a little. "Yeah, kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Okay. A lot. It's just, Ultron's out there and I don't want him getting hurt for our sake. And I'm missing him quite a bit actually. We've been apart before, so I guess I'm dealing." She looked at Steve with wondering blue green eyes. "Ultron's one of the biggest threats we have ever had. You can't tell me not to be scared."

Steve admired her courage. She wasn't breaking one tear over all of this, even though he was in the room. They were best friends and she would never open up to anyone like she was doing with him. He nodded emphatically. "I know. Everybody feels the same way."

"No, Steve, they don't." She sighed and combed her fingers through her fiery hair, playing with the ends of it. It was barely reaching her shoulders now since she trimmed it after the Winter Soldier mission. "Stark's got Pepper and Thor has Jane and you know how Banner is, all dark and solitude and stuff."

Steve's lips pressed into a line as he grimly nodded and stared at her with blue eyes. All he wanted to do was wrap his strong arms around her and assure her that he was here for her, but he knew if he got that close, she'd punch him in the face. "Okay, you've got a point."

"I've always got a point." She flashed a very brief and fleeting grin. "That's what makes me the brains of this team."

Steve chuckled. "You once admitted to me that you only acted like you knew everything."

"Oh, that was just a ploy, my dear Captain. They don't call me the Black Widow for nothing."

The golden haired man searched around the room with only his eyes, trying to look for anything that might cheer the redhead up. But then the woman on the bed piped up unintentionally. "I just want a thrill for once in my life," she sighed, flailing her arms down to press against her sides. "Not one where I feel like I'm going to die, and that rush of adrenaline when battling some villain, but a nice, exciting one."

That definitely sparked Steve's imagination and he immediately hopped off of the bed and onto his feet. "Come on," he suggested in a light voice. "I think I have an idea." Natasha gazed up at him with inquiring verdigris flamed eyes, meeting his beautiful cerulean blue ones thoughtfully.

"But didn't Pepper say that we should stay in our rooms for now?" she noted down mischievously.

"We won't get caught," Steve shrugged nonchalantly, shaking his head as well. He then let out a breathless chuckle from his full, pink lips. "I mean, you are some super spy, so you can just sneak us out with some smoke bombs or something, right?"

He was really getting the hang of all the spy movies Tony had forced him to watch over one of the summers, but Natasha laughed as well. At his second, "Come on," she cocked her head to the side coyly with a smile.

"But what are we doing then?"

"Come on and you'll see." Steve extended a hand and before she knew it, Natasha was grasping that hand firmly because it felt so damn right and he was tugging her to her feet to follow him out the door, where they tiptoed down the hall discreetly and made it downstairs without anybody noticing, hands still interlocked.

* * *

><p>And their fingers still stayed clasped together until they crept down into the doors of the underground garage. Natasha stopped in her tracks, and slipped her hand out of Steve's warm grasp to tuck both of her hands into her jacket's pockets, protecting them from the biting sting of the chilly air. They kept walking a few parking spaces over, footsteps echoing off the walls due to the complete emptiness of the parking garage. Steve continued walking, but the redhead froze again when she saw what they were heading to.<p>

"Oh, Rogers, you're going to bestow the privilege of riding your bike?" she said, draping a hand over her damp forehead. "How honorable."

Steve flashed a grin over his shoulder at her, pearly white teeth sparkling in the fluorescent lighting. "Oh, please, Nat," he teased back, a sliver of amusement in his blue eyes that seem to wink at Natasha. She liked the way he called her 'Nat', even when they were on missions. "I'm driving."

"No, you're not," snapped the red haired woman stubbornly, strolling over. A motorcycle was the only vehicle parked in the entire vastness of the space they were currently in. It was resting almost languidly against its silvery kickstand. It was plated with a sleek and shiny black metal theme, which was normally what any motorcycle would look like, but this one just looked glossier and sexier. With the edition of his Captain America shield, which was slightly grimy from recent battles, it fitted the look with tinted red, blue and white colors, making it look . . .

Like a glossy black death trap with the help of a shield that could easily send back a flying bomb that would explode straight in your face. But Natasha wasn't the least bit scared. She grew up riding things like this.

"Nice ride," she quipped, just wanting to say it for the hell of it. Steve straddled the motorcycle.

"You like the feeling of the wind on your face?" he asked her without looking up from the check up he was performing on the current vehicle. She raised an eyebrow at the Captain.

"I don't see how that's really relevant."

"Only got one helmet," replied Steve simply, solving the equation fast. "Or do you not like going at sixty five miles per hour?" He wasn't teasing this time, but staring up at her concernedly, waiting for an answer.

"If you think I can't handle that speed with only you standing between me and the road, you're damn wrong, Cap." At that loving comment, Steve held out the hemet to her. It was black with a tinted visor. She extracted it from his hands and fiddled with it for a moment to ask, "Why are you doing this?"

"We need to get out more often, that's why." Steve wasn't normally a great liar, but he was sounding vague again, so she just rolled her eyes and and slipped the helmet over her fiery curls and strapped it securely under her chin.

She stretched a leg out over the motorcycle and swung it on to the side of the bike. Most girls would feel insecure only having a narrow strip of seat underneath her when having to speed down a highway, but not Natasha Romanoff. She was a strong, confident dame. Woman, Steve corrected himself. And he so respected that. He gasped the handle bars firmly and revved the engine, which purred underneath them. He heard Natasha slightly gasp under the visor.

"You okay back there?" he inquired with a light tone, beaming from ear to ear.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Cap. We're only going for a ride, that's it."

He laughed softly again. "Hang on tight."

Once Steve pulled out of the parking lot, fixing his leather jacket first, the explosion of movement rumbling inside of the bike startled Natasha and before, she had tentatively grabbed some of the fabric of his leather jacket to hold on and keep her balance. Now she just wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his back, in a backward bear hug. He was accelerating the speed on the highway and her thighs only squeezed around his body. She hoped she was the only one who noticed.

After an hour of speeding around the city, Steve finally parked on a spot near the bridge where they could view the entire canvass of the city, the golden and white lights twinkling magnificently and the looming dark shadows of skyscrapers climbing the sky, their needles threading it like a cloth, and the East River shone like a silvery ribbon. The sight was absolutely breathtaking.

"Wow," breathed out Natasha. "This is incredible." The great view was almost enough to get her mind off of current things. But then she recalled how none of that could be there tomorrow. Steve was still sitting on the motorcycle, watching the redhead with a faint smile tracing his lips, but then seeing the sorrow on her face, he called out,

"Hey. Come sit down." He patted the space next to him and the red haired woman joined him. He unpacked the apples he had brought for a little midnight snack, but then looked down at the green fruit, dumbfounded. Natasha noticed and then chortled. Seems like the plan was working.

"Do not tell me you forgot to bring a knife," she teased.

"If you were coming, what would be the point? I bet twenty bucks you've got a knife in your sneaker."

Natasha paused and shifted around. Grumbling under her breath, she spun back around to him, a hand outstretched with a cutting knife and two crisp ten dollar bills. Steve took the knife, but decided to leave the money with a generous smile. The knife was small, had a sharp and clean silver blade and the handle looked worn in from the use of warm fingers gripping it tightly. As he carefully sliced the apples into clean slivers of green apple, he said, "Please don't be so tense, Nat."

The redhead sighed. "Whatever. How can you not be tense?"

"I am tense. Just, I have to relax right now."

She arched an eyebrow. "The great Captain America is not focusing on the task at hand? I would be impressed, if this was some other mission."

"I never said I wasn't focused on the task at hand. I'm just saying that we should enjoy the time that we have right now."

"Now you sound like a optimist."

"Do you have to twist all of my words around to your sarcastic benefit?" He then stopped to stare at her for a moment.

A slight smile made her soft lips twitch. "Sorry." She then nibbled into a slice of apple, the sweet taste making her tongue feel soothed. She looked over slyly at Steve, a glint in her eye. "I never made sure. You ever call that nurse?"

"Who, Sharon?" Steve suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Uh . . . ."

"Do not tell me you didn't."

"I haven't had the time lately-"

"Oh. My. God. Seriously?"

"No, wait! We did go on one date, but it was pretty . . . boring."

"Boring?" Natasha tried to mask her disappointment.

"Yeah. Between me and Sharon, it's hugely platonic now. She doesn't interest me like- Other people." The redhead noticed the halt in the blond man's sentence and her green eyes narrowed once more. She scooted closer to him.

"And who do these 'other people' happen to be?" she asked, leaning in close, genuinely interested. "I could set you up with someone easily."

"I don't know. The right one is already where I want her to be."

"Where?"

"Here."

Natasha Romanoff was not easily surprised, but Steve managed to catch her completely off guard when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, soft and comforting. The Captain relished the momentary satisfaction of Natasha's stiffening, but that stage only lasted for, oh, a second. And to his own astonishment, he hadn't expected for Natasha to kiss him back. He'd expected her to push him away, to punch him, to fling him off the cliff with her bare hands, but instead, her arms wrapped around his neck securely and brought him closer. Their lips were crashing over each other, tasting the sweet, sugary tang of apples, lust finally finding its way into their body and his own hands trailed upwards to latch themselves into the sweet warmth of her fiery curls.

The red haired woman now broke away from Steve for a moment, breathing hard and keeping her forehead pressed to his. "Wow," she chuckled.

"Better than our first?" he challenged.

"Hell, yeah, Cap. Are you sure you haven't been practicing?"

"I already told you. You don't need practice."

There was a long pause between them, their hushed tones fading into silence, and it felt like one of those moments when history was supposed to be made. And it was actually made right there when Steve said,

"Nat, I love you."

She froze again, and then melted back into his arms. Her voice was determined, and absolutely strong and not asking for any negotiation. "Don't say that just yet, Steve. You're not dying. Not today or tomorrow, not if I can help it."

"We're not going to die," Steve corrected.

She smiled, planted another kiss on his lips, lingering and reassuring before leaning back in his arms and sighing, staring up at the stars. "You know, in movies, this is the part where the lovers would make love under the stars," she teased.

Steve blushed so intensely he looked like a tomato. "Nat, I don't think-"

"Kidding, Steve," she giggled. "Unless you want to, of course."

He chuckled and ruffled up her hair, then slipped something between her fingers. She looked down at her cupped palm. The motorcycle keys were lying in her hand. She looked back at him for a moment with a big grin. "Seriously? I can drive?"

"Whoa!" the Captain suddenly explained, snatching the keys back. "You can use them later on, not right now." Proving his point, he inserted the keys back into the slot and they drove back to the Avengers Tower. He walked her back upstairs like a gentleman and their fingers stayed interlocked for a moment and Natasha despised the moment when she would have to let go. But Steve leaned forward, pressed another sweet kiss on her lips and later on her forehead.

"See you tomorrow, Rogers," she whispered against his cheek.

"I'll make sure of it, Romanoff," he said back and leaving the keys in her fingers again, he started down the hallway until she called out,

"Hey, Cap!" He turned, blue eyes sparkling. She continued, "If we die tomorrow, I'm glad I'm dying with you."

The ghost of a smile traced his lips. "Don't think like that yet, darling."


End file.
